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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795506">Flesh and Bone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoStarfish/pseuds/MangoStarfish'>MangoStarfish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Magic and Zombies [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Voyeurism, Bed Sex, Blood, M/M, Minor Injuries, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prison (Walking Dead), Semi-Public Sex, Trans Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:00:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoStarfish/pseuds/MangoStarfish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick little porn one shot I wrote instead of updating. Technically it's supposed to be a chapter but the draft will delete tomorrow so...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Magic and Zombies [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flesh and Bone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had a lot of help with this scene, so if the writing seems familiar that's why. I've been asked not to co author, but technically I didn't even write most of this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Harry." Gaunts voice was reverent.</p><p>Rick turned to look at him, sprawled on his back, and he marvelled at the way his sharp face softened. The possessive, relieved, heated way Gaunt was staring at the man was something soft and private. Not meant for anyone other than Potter. Rick turned away, to see the man they'd spent so much time searching for.</p><p>So, this was the notorious Harry Potter. Rick stared at him, bathed in shadows and holding a broadsword dripping with vicera, and he was startled at how young he was. He had to be in his early twenties, at least half Rick's age, younger than he had expected given the respect Gaunt had for him. He was built in the same way Gaunt was; tall, broad shouldered, both muscled and thin in a way that suggested he'd had a harder time finding food and shelter than they had, and his skin was tanned-golden. His eyes were such a striking vivid shade of green they seemed to glow in the shadows of the cell block, bright and cold. Potter didn't look nearly as happy to see Gaunt as Gaunt was to see him, and he doubted he was the only one who had noticed.</p><p>"What are you doing here Tom?" Potter asked, devoid of any emotion, sword still pointed at Gaunt's pale neck. It took Rick a moment to realize that he was addressing Gaunt, and he found Tom to be too ordinary a name for the brutal and aloof person Gaunt was. Tom didn't suit Gaunt any more than Harry seemed to fit Potter.</p><p>"The boss got worried when you didn't show at the rendezvous." Gaunt replied. He still hadn't moved to get his guns. Neither of them seemed affected by the low buzz of confused whispering, nor the guns trained on them.</p><p>"I know why Death sent someone," Potter said quietly, "why you?"</p><p>Who was Death? Rick wondered, Was he the mysterious boss Gaunt had referenced before? And if so, why did he go by such a strange name? Not for the first time, Rick wondered what, exactly, Gaunt did for a living pre-apocalypse.</p><p>"Because he knew I'd find you." Gaunt chuckled. "You were lost to Death, but I was still able to locate you."</p><p>Rick privately thought antagonizing a man with a weapon at your throat was a bad idea.</p><p>"And you just did as ordered like a good little Reaper for once in your existence?" Potter asked, and Gaunt gave a little shrug, his gaze like molten lava. Rick wondered about the word Reaper and what it meant, and he fought the urge to turn away from the force of that look.</p><p>Both Potter and Gaunt stared at one another, eyes locked intensely, neither moving or blinking for a minute, and then, abruptly, Potter's whole demeanor changed. He ducked his head sheepishly, relaxing with a soft grin, and then he swung the sword away from Gaunt's throat. He held out one gloved hand, which Gaunt took, and he helped him up from the floor. Before Rick could do more than wonder just what passed between them in that minute long stare, Gaunt grabbed hold of Potter's shirt and hauled him in for a brief but passionate kiss, which seemed to surprise Potter more than it did anyone else. His sword clattered to the ground and he made a soft muffled yelping sound. It lasted about two seconds, then Gaunt let go of the front of his shirt, and Potter just stared wide-eyed after him as he walked away.</p><p>Gaunt reached the door, "Coming?" He called over his shoulder, but he didn't wait or look back to see if he'd be followed.</p><p>Potter stood there, face red as the blood splattered on the concrete, still looking lost, then he shook his head. "I'm gonna.." he trailed off, slowly grabbing his blood covered sword and backing out of the room after Gaunt.</p><p>In the still silence left in the absence of the two men, Shane started to chuckle, and the sound rang out like a gunshot. Rick couldn't help but stare at the blood on the wall, vividly recalling how Potter's sword nicked Gaunt's arm, how the blood splashed across the wall, how he'd hauled Potter forward with the same bleeding arm to kiss him in front if all of them, and Rick found himself laughing at how close they'd been to dying. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of history Gaunt and Potter had.</p><p>--------------------<br/>Harry Pov<br/>--------------------</p><p>Harry followed after Tom Riddle awkwardly down the corridor to his cell. It wasn't awkward because it was Tom. No, Death had informed him that Tom was a Reaper long before the first time they saw each other in person, and they had begun to develop a sort of tense but at least civil relationship with each other, something not quite friendship, there was too much history for friendship, but even with their odd relationship Harry couldn't think of anything he had done to deserve that kind of kiss from his former nemesis. The kind that was equal parts fire and ice, burning and soothing, so full of promise that the short touch of their lips left Harry wanting more, even as his mind struggled to catch up, confused by what he'd done to earn such treatment. It was a silent walk, just as full of promise as the kiss. Harry itched to hide and clean his sword, to reevaluate everything that had passed since he'd forgiven Tom for his parents, to figure out some reason for Tom's kiss, but instead he walked on behind Tom, curious about what he intended to do in his room. Curious if Tom would kiss him again.</p><p>Finally, and yet too soon, they reach the cell Tom had claimed as his own space. Harry didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't milk crates crammed full of assorted books, knives stashed everywhere, and guns leaned against the wall next to two compound bows. The bottom bunk had a wooden board on half that was completely empty, while the other half had some more weapons and a few stacked boxes. The top bunk was neatly made, and Harry almost laughed as he noticed the black silk sheets peaking out from under the mismatched quilts, a spot of luxury that seemed unnatural in such a rough and cruel place. Those sheets, that tiny hint of opulance, Harry thought, were at least something he had been expecting.</p><p>"Home sweet home." Tom said from over Harry's shoulder.</p><p>Harry privately thought kissing Tom, even so briefly, had been a lot like coming home, but he didn't voice that thought. Instead he turned with a smile that was softer than he intended and said, "It's nice."</p><p>Tom gave him a look equal parts heated and longing. He gestured to the door. "Closed or Open." He asked huskily.</p><p>Harry didn't have to read his mind to know that he wasn't really asking about the door. He was asking if Harry wanted privacy, but if Harry said to close the door he knew that they wouldn't be talking about anything important, at least not at first. This isn't what he was planning when he saw Tom Riddle. Harry planned to send him back to Death, to warn him of the danger, but his tongue was all twisted up and the words wouldn't come and his mouth felt so dry. Parched like a desert.</p><p>Slowly, deliberately, Harry nodded. "Close the door." He could worry in a moment.</p><p>Tom swung the door shut and locked the cell. He drew the ties off the plain white cotton sheets hanging in front of the door, which plunged them into privacy and faded the light so that it was a little difficult to see the details of Tom's face. Harry stood in the center of his room, feeling flushed and giddy and also out of place with his dirty clothes and muddy boots and bloodied sword. Tom was as clean and neat as his room was, and Harry felt a bit out of his depth.</p><p>Tom turned so he was standing just in front of Harry, his gaze was molten lava and the three inches of height Tom had on him somehow seemed like miles.<br/>"Scared?" Tom breathed quietly, his long fingers brushed the softest and most intimate caress across Harry's cheek.</p><p>He wanted to be brave and laugh it off, but instead he found himself compelled to be honest. "Terrified." He whispered without breaking Tom's heated gaze.</p><p>Tom glanced back at the doorway, as if he were accessing whether or not the thin sheet provided enough privacy. Harry gulped. He should say something, get them away from this dangerous path before it was too late, but Merlin he wanted to see what Tom would do. He wanted Tom to push him against the wall, he wanted him to kiss him breathless, he wanted to see if his former nemesis would claim him. There was something wrong with him.</p><p>Tom tilted Harry's head back, brushed his finger softly across his lips, and Harry could smell the earthy scent of gardening on his skin, the sweet smell of oranges, and the bitter metallic scent of blood, which drew his attention to Tom's left arm. He gently took his hand and inspected the cut his sword made. A long diagonal slice down the inside of his arm, wrist to elbow. The wound wasn't shallow, he could see bone and the bleeding wasn't slowing, just spilling out of his skin like a ruby waterfall. He wondered how Tom could even think if anything else, but then, he had a high pain tolerance. He had to, to split his soul as many times as he had.</p><p>"Do you mind?" He asked, and Tom's look was more hungry than it had any right to be as he nodded.</p><p>Harry poured some magic into the wound and watched as his flesh stitched itself together, until the wound was shallow enough that he would only need stitches, and not be in danger of loosing the arm. He couldn't heal it all the way, not since they had witnesses who had seen him injure Tom, but Harry could get away with a little healing and a spell to ward off infection. Letting Tom's arm go, Harry dropped his backpack to the ground and rummaged around. A few seconds later he handed Tom a bottle of everclear, then he began to set out his first aid kit, a spool of fishing wire, and a curved sewing needle. Harry sent out a mental thank you to Petunia Dursley for forcing him to learn sewing at a young age. At least his hands would be steady as he stitched Tom's arm, steadier than whoever stitched his lip.</p><p>"Where did you get that scar on your lip?" Harry asked as he started setting up the towels, warm water, and started running the needle through the flame of his lighter.</p><p>"I stowed away on someone's ship after I arrived and forced them to take me to America." Tom said dryly. "They didn't appreciate it."</p><p>"You do the stitches yourself?" Harry chuckled.</p><p>Tom smiled. "No. I stabbed the captain of the boat I pirated and forced him to stitch my lip before I'd let him stitch himself. And then I threw him overboard" He gave Harry a viciously proud look. "Hopefully your hand is steadier."</p><p>It probably said something about Harry that he could not summon enough energy to care about the person Tom just admitted to stabbing, robbing, and marooning. "Drink some of that." He gestured to the bottle of everclear as he set the now sterilized needle to the side. "I don't have anesthesia."</p><p>The former dark lord took a few gulps, then handed it back to Harry. Tom sat on the edge of the empty boarded area on his bed, and Harry kneeled in between his legs. He took his arm and gently laid it across Tom's lap and then he sterilized the needle. Harry poured some of the alcohol on the wound, causing Tom to hiss as he jerked his arm back, but Harry had too tight a grip on his wrist for Tom to really go anywhere. He painstakingly sewed Tom's arm together, sliding needle and fishing wire through his skin with a firm hand that didn't betray the viseral primal feeling that had taken control of him. A sort of vicious predetory arousal that he didn't want to try to unravel. The only sounds in the quiet cell were Tom's jerky breathing, and the sound of blood dripping down to the wooden board and his lap. Harry's fingers ached from the repetitive motion. The needle slid in his fingers, slick with blood. Tom panted above him, his pained breaths and whimpering came out sounding a lot less innocent than they should have, and Harry wondered what was wrong with him that he was enjoying this. Soon Harry was done, and after he wiped down Tom's arm and poured a splash of alcohol over Tom's wound, Harry wrapped his arm in gauze.</p><p>He looked up, finished, and Tom was gazing down at him like he wanted to devour him. There was a clear line between what he wanted and what he should do. Harry should stand, he should walk away, but his eyes are drawn to the rise and fall of Tom's chest, to the pale curve of his throat, and he couldn't help but wonder if Tom would sound the same as he had before. He stood up, and Tom made a sound of protest. He grabbed Harry by the pant loops, and Harry smiled at him, encouraging, before he delebritly, carefully, sat down in Tom's lap.</p><p>"Is minor surgery normal foreplay for you?" Harry gasped as Tom wasted no time in attacking his throat with his mouth. Tom chuckled against his skin.</p><p>"Nothing's normal about this." Tom said. He pulled back with a serious expression. "Tell me to stop. Stop me, if this is going too fast, or if you change your mind. Trust that I won't force you."</p><p>Harry laughed at the uncharacteristic softness. "Trust that I'll tell you to stop if I need it, but I don't want you to hold back. I can take it."</p><p>Tom made a wounded sound in the back of his throat. "Bed or here?"</p><p>Harry almost told him to just take him there, but a part of him, the romantic part, didn't want to lose his virginity on a wooden board. He said as much and Tom pushed him down with a possessive glint in his eyes. For a moment he thought maybe Tom would take him there, just for the admission that Harry hadn't let anyone else touch him, not even his girlfriend of two or three years. But then the moment passed.</p><p>"Bed." Tom rasped, pulling back and taking off his shirt.</p><p>Harry wasted no time. He got out of Tom's lap and started removing his weapons, then his dirty shoes and finally clothes. He wished he had the ability to bathe, but Tom didn't seem to mind that he was in need of a shower. He seemed to be devouring Harry with his eyes. The air in the cell was brisk and charged. The bed creaked as he climbed up, and he was grateful that he hadn't removed his pants yet just because he couldn't fathom how he'd have made it up the stairs if he had taken them off. Tom came in behind him, crawling up between his legs as Harry scooched back against the pillows.</p><p>An awkward thought came to Harry and he grimaced, "Hey umm..." The words wouldn't come out right. Harry gulped and tried again, "The thing is, when I was born, I wasn't..."</p><p>Why was this so difficult?</p><p>Tom huffed out a soft laugh. "I know Harry." He said. "I tried to kill you when you were an infant."</p><p>Oh, right. Of course Tom knew. Everyone in the whole wizarding world knew.</p><p>"Does that bother you?" Harry cringed at how small he sounded.</p><p>Now Tom outright laughed. "Do you really think I'd be here if I cared what bits and pieces you have in your pants? It's never mattered before, why would I care now?"</p><p>Well, when he put it like that...</p><p>The bed made a loud creak as Tom sat back and unbuttoned his trousers, it hit the wall with a clang of metal against stone as Harry shifted and removed his own pants. Naked in the bed with Tom looming over him, Harry felt like he'd been waiting for this since he was sixteen and struggling with his attraction to Ginny and the persistent attraction to the version of Tom Riddle immortalized in memories. He hated himself then, but Harry had long ago stopped hating himself for the undying attraction he had. Still, having his feelings returned, felt a bit sureal. For a moment neither moved, and Harry resisted the urge to close his legs, to cover the genitalia he'd been born with. Tom's cock jutted out between them, it's head glistening, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the length and girth of his life long nemesis.</p><p>"You're gorgeous." Tom breathed out. His long fingers clenched Harry's thighs and pried them open, his grip bruising, and his eyes were rivited to Harry's cunt like he was planning on worshipping him with his mouth.</p><p>"So are you." Harry responded, fingers twitching with the need to touch. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "Touch me." He requested.</p><p>Tom let go of his thighs and reached down to slide his fingers through the folds of wet aching flesh. Harry groaned and tipped his head back. Every nerve in his body seemed to buzz under his skin with the force of his impatience. There was a time and place for foreplay, this wasn't the time or place. He needed Tom inside of him. The bed gave a loud rusty groan as Harry hooked his leg around Tom's hips to pull him closer. With one hand he reached down and wrapped a hand around Tom's cock, heat filling his belly as he grew even wetter, and he guided the head to his entrance.</p><p>Tom gave him an odd look, half awe and half concern, and asked, "Are you sure?"</p><p>Harry nodded. He appreciated the concern, and the fact that Tom was trying to make him comfortable, but he also knew that if Tom took anymore time to fuck him then Harry was going to explode. He needed to be fucked, he hadn't even realized how much he needed it. The bed creaked as Tom leaned all of his weight on his arms, pushing in, stretching Harry's entrance around him. Harry gasped, unable to help tightening his legs around Tom's waist, groaning deeply as Tom finally bottomed out. Harry felt he may have underestimated his ability to take Tom. Tom was on the larger side, and his cunt felt stuffed and stretched to the very limit of comfort.</p><p>When Tom began to thrust; at first shallow as he got used to it, then steadily harder, deeper; the bed creaked and groaned and clanged against the wall. Creak, creak, clang! Tom didn't even seem to be trying to keep their activities secret. He moaned and panted against Harry's hair, cradling him close, one hand holding his thigh as high on Tom's waist as Harry's body would allow, the other holding his weight looming over Harry. Harry couldn't help the noise he made any more than Tom, and though instinctively he knew he should be quiet, Harry couldn't being himself to care that the others in the prison could probably hear everything even two blocks away. Creak, clang, creak, clang! The bed began to squeak and squeal and thud against the wall with every thrust. Tom began to pant his name in a reverent chant, his thrusting getting harder and less controled. Soon it seemed as if the squeak-thud of the bunk was an endless singular noise. Too soon Harry felt something building up like lightning in his belly. The cell was filled with the wet sound of skin slapping, the squealing of the rusted frame followed by the loud thud of the frame hitting the wall, the low husky way Tom panted his name mixed with praise and cursing, and the sound of his own cries as they steadily grew louder as he got closer to the edge.</p><p>"Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop!" It took Harry a moment to realize that the begging was him. He was groaning and begging like that. His voice didn't sound like his own.</p><p>Tom huffed out a breath. He moved his hand from Harry's thigh so that he could start to rub the nub in front of his entrance. Electricity shot through Harry's body, building up and up and up until it snapped like a rubber band and Harry felt his body clenching around Tom's cock as the wetness flooded between them. He thought he may have screamed, but he couldn't tell. Tom continued to fuck him through his orgasm and, just as he began to feel a little over sensitive, Tom thrust in as deeply as he could and emptied himself into Harry.</p><p>"Harry, fuck, Harry!" He groaned in a low husky voice.</p><p>Tom collapsed like a puppet without strings, his head resting on Harry's chest. The silence made their breath sound much louder than it was, it rang in his ears. Panting harshly, Harry tried to catch his breath, tried to force his heart to calm down as he gulped in air like a dying man.</p><p>"Finally." An unfamiliar feminine voice said from beyond the curtain. "If you two are done, Hershel wants to take a look at Gaunt's arm."</p><p>Someone else added under their breath, "We could hear you in the kitchen. Jesus!"</p><p>"Fuck off." Tom groaned half-heartedly, the words muffled by Harry's neck.</p><p>The girl beyond the curtain laughed good naturedly. "You have five minutes before Hershel comes in." She said, then Harry heard her footsteps getting quieter, followed by heavy boot-falls.</p><p>"So much for basking in the afterglow." Tom muttered mutinously. Harry couldn't help it, he laughed.</p>
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